


Exes & Alm(oh)sts

by stingraysaresexy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Camaro Feels, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post Season 4, Pre Season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stingraysaresexy/pseuds/stingraysaresexy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been through a lot. He knows what it feels like to hurt. Knows what it feels like when every little thing stings and grates even though it shouldn't. The bruises, broken bones, and scars didn't hurt as much as it did when he found out just why Derek ditched the Toyota for a new Camaro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exes & Alm(oh)sts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inlightofvisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlightofvisa/gifts).



> Title from ["Ex's & Oh's"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0uLI6BnVh6w) by Elle King (which you should definitely listen to while reading this). I heard this and knew that Derek needed to [leave somebody on the side of the road](http://stingraysaresexy.tumblr.com/image/125577178759). Shout out to [Pleasecalibratetheguillotine](http://pleasecalibratetheguillotine.tumblr.com/) for the beta work. Blame them for the inspiration to have it be Stiles, but not the remaining mistakes. Those are mine.

Stiles is sitting out on the preserve, a pilfered bottle of Jack from his dad's "secret" stash in the back corner of the pantry next to him on the Jeep's still warm hood. It's a cloudless summer night and the air has a chill to it that has no business being there in July. He glowers at the unopened bottle.

The moon is new, and the sky is dark save for the stars. The engine pings softly beneath him as it cools. Stiles buries his face in his hands and sighs heavily. When he resurfaces from the depths of his doom and gloom, a pair of glowing blue eyes is watching him through a shrub. Stiles lays back on the hood, patting the space next to him in an unnecessary invitation.

"It's open. I think I still have one of your dumb shirts in the back." He shouts in the general direction of the glow.

He listens for the telltale rustle of the wolf slinking through the shrubbery, but it never comes. Stiles waits a little longer. The Jeep's tailgate latch clicks and the hinges squeak open. Assorted sounds of rummaging blend with the murmur of the night. A quiet huff alerts him to the possibility that Derek is borrowing more than just his clothes.

The tailgate shuts and Stiles hears footfalls. Derek comes around the passenger side of the car. Stiles glares at him before scooting over and relaxing back against the hood. He's wearing his grey backup henley, but the pair of Scott's black sweatpants.

"Really."

"Scott's never worn these."

Stiles sighs. "Whatever. Let's get this over with."

"I'm not here to yell at you, Stiles."

"Then why?"

"Because you shouldn't be drinking-"

Stiles cuts him off with a sharp laugh but Derek shuts him up with a withering stare.

"Alone. You shouldn't be drinking alone."

"Oh."

"Yeah, dumbass." Derek grouses, opening the bottle with a claw.

"You can't even get drunk."

"Doesn't mean I don't like whiskey. Somebody has to drive you home."

"I don't see why you care."

Derek scowls at him all the while taking a _looooooong_ pull from the bottle and swallowing hard. He hands the bottle over looking much like he'd rather smash it over Stiles' head.

Stiles hates whiskey, he really does, but it was on hand and he'd really rather be drunk. He takes a swig from the bottle. It burns all the way down his throat but feels comfortably warm in his stomach. He takes another swallow and hands the bottle back to Derek.

He waits until Derek is done drinking. "Really? New York?" Stiles is just as shocked by all the emotions in his voice as Derek is.

Eyebrows. That's all he gets in response.

"Derek you can't leave."

More eyebrows. “I don't see why you care."

Stiles sighs. "Fuuuuuuuuuck."

Derek chucklescoffs and raises the bottle before taking another drink and offering it to Stiles.

Stiles takes it, shaking his head before taking a gulp and grimacing.

"I had a life in New York." He says softly, like someone might record it and use it against him. Stiles figures somebody probably has done that to him at some point. "When I left, I felt like this. So I'm ready to leave again."

Stiles takes another drink in lieu of sticking his foot in his mouth. He was already well on his way to being sloshed, and his already minimal filter faded fast.

Derek shifts on hood, resting more of himself on the flat part of the panel. It puts the entire hard line of his body in contact with Stiles. He palms the bottle and takes another impressive pull.

"So you're just going to lay here and pretend to be tipsy while I get hammered and you're going to be a marshmallow wolf because I won't remember it." Well that was fast. Open mouth, insert foot.

"Basically." Derek's voice is weighed down with all he's never told.

"That's super decent of you." Stiles slurs.

Derek chuffs and offers another mock toast. "Yeah." He sighs. "Look Stiles, there's no easy way to say this."

"Then don't." Stiles says, taking the bottle and tossing back a shot. "Derek, I have feelings for you." Insert other foot.

"Stiles." Derek's voice is broken on a whole other level of _not okay_.

"No. You don't get to tell me no. I know what I feel. You've saved my ass a hell of a lot of times and sure I didn't always appreciate it. But you did. In your own special burnt-marshmallow werewolfy way, you cared. And of course I saved your fine ass a couple times even though you weren't so thrilled with that. I know when we first met, it was bad. I was bad. But I fucking care about you now." Stiles shoves the empty bottle at Derek. "So you don't get to do this to me."

"No. Stiles," Derek says. "I have feelings for you too."

Stiles scoffs. "Ok, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck me."

Derek chuckles warmly. "Sex. With the sheriff's drunk, underage son. Even my bad ideas aren't that bad."

"You know what's not a bad idea? Letting me lay on you."

Derek huffs and rolls his eyes before lifting Stiles onto his chest. "Better?"

"No. You're not soft," Stiles pokes at his densely muscled torso. "So much for part wolf-part marshmallow." He snuffles.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"You're askin' the wrong dude, dude." Stiles is tracing the henley's buttons.

"Don't call me dude."

Stiles giggles. "If you would have told me at any point before an hour ago that I would be laying on your chest, enjoying your body heat and your camaraderie, I would have called you a dirty liar and run to the nearest bathroom to jack off to that fantastic image."

"I probably would have ripped their throat out-"

"With your teeth. Look at you. A functioning sense of humor an' everything." Stiles' hand moves to the top part of the collar where a thatch of hair is peaking out. "Please tell me you understand why I will forever be laughing at your new car."

Derek groans. "Because it's the Alpha Camaro."

Stiles cackles. "Alpha Camaro. Yes! I can't, Derek, I just-"

His train of thought evaporates there because Derek pulls him up further for a chaste kiss. Just a dry press of lips against lips.

"I hate you so much."

"I know." Derek smiles bashfully.

"Oh hell no, you did not just-" Stiles is so indignant that he almost breaks the second kiss to protest.

"Shhhhhhhh," Derek shushes him. "Go to sleep."

"Dun wanna." Stiles mumbles into the side of Derek's neck.

Derek wraps a strong arm around the middle of his back and threads the fingers of his other hand through Stiles' hair. "It's ok. It will be ok. You have to know that." He says to the sleeping boy. Derek presses a kiss to his temple.

_________________

Stiles wakes up the next morning fully clothed in his bed to an extremely mild hangover, considering his state of drunkenness. He has a vague memory of kissing Derek Hale. Derek Hale, the man about to leave for the other side of the country.

The doorbell startles him out of his reverie.

He bolts out of bed and stumbles down the stairs to fling the door open. Scott is standing there with his confused puppy dog face.

"Bro, is everything ok?" Stiles motions for Scott to come in.

"No." Scott shakes his head. "Derek's disappeared. We can't find him anywhere. His car isn't at the loft or the preserve."

"Scott. He's leaving. Remember?"

"What!?" Scott looks like he did when Lydia told him Pluto wasn't a planet anymore.

"That's why he bought the Camaro. He's going back to New York. Salvage a life worth living."

Scott sits down on the couch, speechless.

"Did he not tell you when he got the car?"

Scott shakes his head.

"There's no way he only told me." Stiles huffs.

"Way." Comes the reply from a leather jacketed Derek. He's standing in the open door.

"How?" Scott stands, incredulous.

"I'm here for Stiles. I don't want to have this conversation again." Derek looks desperately like he wants to cross his arms and assume Licensed Badass Position #3. Instead, he stands there awkwardly with his limbs locked in tension.

"What." They say in unison.

"Stiles. Are you coming or not?" Derek asks tightly.

"You're not taking him to New York." Scott stands firm, eyes flashing.

Derek's eyes flash back in challenge. "I'm not taking him to New York. Wait by the phone." He looks to the other side of their Mexican standoff. "Stiles?"

"Yeah," He says slowly. "Yeah, I'll come."

_________________

They get in the car and Derek puts his sunglasses on, gunning the engine and peeling out.

"I knew you missed being able to make a dramatic exit in that mommy-mobile."

The corner of Derek's mouth turns up in a smirk. "Yeah."

Stiles doesn't say anything until they get on the expressway. "So."

"So I didn't want to just leave without talking to you first after last night."

"That is..." Stiles starts. "That's really mature of you." And then he realizes that Derek is making himself out to be Kate in this scenario. "Whoa. No. You did not-"

Derek cuts him off with an indifferent noise. "Maybe, maybe not. But I don't kiss and tell. Or run."

"Ok. What else you got?" Stiles pokes Derek's cheek. "You're still looking emotionally constipated."

Derek gets off Highway 1 and onto Interstate 80. "I... About last night-"

"I swear to god, you fucking better not regret it because I will end you, Hale."

Derek honest-to-God laughs. Stiles thinks it's the first time he's heard Derek actually make a happy noise. "No, Stiles. I don't regret it."

"Then what?"

"I couldn't leave without telling you. I've fucked up almost constantly, done a lot of things I'm not proud of, but this was not a mistake I was willing to make. You could never-"

"You don't get to decide that for me." Stiles says roughly.

"I'm not good for you." Derek is using is using his soft and broken voice again.

"No. Of course not." Stiles crosses his arms and stares out the window. The green of the forests is giving way to the red-brown of the deserts. "I didn't see Scott or Lydia in the bushes last night."

Derek puts his foot down and lets the car roar for him. From where he's shoved back in his seat, Stiles notes triple digits on the speedometer. When Derek steps off, he lurches forward. They sit in uneasy silence for a couple miles.

A green speck appears on the horizon. It looms quickly, marking the edge of the city limits and the county line. 

Derek slams on the brakes, bringing the muscle car to a screeching halt. "Get out."

"What."

"I said get out."

"You have got to be fucking me." Stiles looks at him dumbly.

Derek leans across him and opens the door. His raised eyebrows say 'don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.'

Stiles climbs out of the Camaro. Numb. He feels numb. He closes the door with a soft thunk.

The lock sinks down with a muffled thump.

The Camaro's engine howls and the tires squeal as Derek takes off, leaving thick black zigzags on the worn tarmac.

Stiles stands there unmoving until the car disappears over the horizon. He pulls out his phone. "Hey, Scott. Uh-huh. Yeah, I need a ride."


End file.
